Family Fun Times
by R.C.C
Summary: Fluffy memories starring the Townley family at different stages of the kids' development. (Series of one-shots. Rated for Language)
1. Late Night Jobs

3:30 AM in the morning and notorious bank robber Michael Townley stood in front of the fridge at a complete and total loss. Just as he had both suspected and feared: they were out of pickles. He stared a minute longer, hoping if he blinked enough times they would magically appear.

"Michael?" came the strained yell, punctuated by a two year old's scream.

"Yes, Amanda," Michael replied flatly.

"Did you find any pickles and peanut butter yet?"

"No, Amanda," he replied, completely monotone. Usually Tracey slept straight through the night. Usually she was like a light switch: bright eyed and bushy tailed or out like a light. But not tonight. No, tonight her daddy had been gone, so as soon as he snuck back in, she screamed, and screamed, and screamed some more. He swore if she didn't grow up to be a damn opera singer with those lungs, she could get a job as a sneak detector. Jesus, she'd heard him when countless professional security guards would have gone about their business, completely unaware of his presence. And in fact, several had done just that earlier in the day...

"Would you bring me a glass of water?" Amanda called and Michael shut the fridge door.

"Yes, Amanda," he repeated and grabbed a glass from the overhead cabinet. He filled it with water from the tap and walked back down the narrow hallway in their trailer to the baby room. Amanda paced in the small, 5 feet of free space in the room. Between the crib, a reclining chair chair, an armoire and a closet, the room was crammed. Amanda bounced the wailing toddler Tracey on her hip, trying to keep her from punching or kicking or squirming onto her mother's protruding pregnant belly.

"You're an angel," she said, trading Tracey for the glass of water. The toddler immediately latched onto her fathers hair with one hand and grabbed his cheek with another.

"Daddy!" the toddler exclaimed at the top of her lungs, making both of her parents wince. Amanda chugged the water.

"Shhh, sh, shhh," Michael muttered, similarly bouncing, her almost by instinct.

"No pickles?" Amanda asked.

"No pickles," Michael confirmed and Amanda sighed, staring forlornly at her glass. Michael knew that look. "Do you need me to go get some?" he asked, and her face lit up like he knew it would. "I'll go get some," he concluded and went to hand back the toddler. Amanda put down the glass and grabbed Tracey, who immediately began screaming.

"Daddy, no leave, no, leave no," she screamed, inconsolable as both her parents told her he'd be right back. He wondered if she would ever stop doing that. He could still hear her after he closed the front door. He shuffled down the steps, letting the mild chill of the night bite his cheeks and wake him up. He took the sedan and drove the couple miles to the general store. The cashier said something but Michael didn't bother trying to listen. He went straight to the grocery aisle, passing the other condiments and finding the pickles soon enough. He stared down the aisle at the refrigerated section, and mentally counted how much beer he had left at the house. He picked up a twelve pack for good measure and went to the register.

"Hello, sir," the cashier greeted.

"Hey, how ya doin'," Michael responded automatically, putting the pickles and beer on the counter.

"Did you find everything you need, air?" the cashier asked and Michael started to pull his wallet out of his back pocket before he looked up and froze. The cashier must have seen the immediate look of shock, "Are you alright sir?"

They'd robbed this fucking guy a couple weeks ago; he vividly remembered the same cashier standing in front of him pulling a bat from behind the counter, only to be broadsided by the butt of Michael's rifle. Don't be a hero, he'd said.

"Sir?" the cashier persisted. But this wasn't the same shop. Michael would have never agreed to hit a place so close to home, especially not the one he made late night beer runs too. One of the cashier's hands was under the counter. Michael shook himself out of it.

"yea, no, sorry, I just realized I forgot something..." he stammered, waving his hands where the cashier could see them. "But I can't for the life of me remember what," Michael said, laughing tiredly. "My wife's gonna kill me when I get home and forgot... Whatever the fuck it was."

The cashier leaned back and smiled. "Ahhh, your wife, she is expecting?"

"Yea, and we already got a two year old," Michael replied, trying to keep his voice level. He handed the cashier a couple bills from his wallet, and the cashier opened the register for change.

"Delightful. I have three myself at home," he said, dispensing the last couple coins into Michael's hand.

"Oh wow," Michael forced himself to say, "must be a real handful." Michael put the change in his wallet and shoved it back in his pocket.

"It's delightful," the cashier responded, and Michael put on a crooked smile as he took his bags and left. He cranked the radio up loud for the return home. He opened the glove compartment, pushed past the 9mm hand gun, and grabbed the bottle of antacids. He popped a couple and went up the stairs. He opened the door slowly, and quietly, and listened. Not hearing any wailing yet, he went inside. Amanda immediately stood up from her chair at the table. Michael fished out the jar of pickles from the bag and handed it to her. She kissed him on the cheek and went straight back to the table where she had the peanut butter waiting. Michael shook his head and put the beer next to the fridge before he tip-toed down the hall. He paused in front of the door to the baby room and looked back.

Amanda was eating a pickle spear dipped in peanut butter, but she saw him and stopped. He pointed at the door, and Amanda tilted her head, and rested her cheek on her clasped her hands, making exaggerated, silent snores. Michael chewed his bottom lip and put his hand on the doorknob. She stared, agape. He put a finger to his lips and creaked open the door. So far so good. He crept in on the balls of his feet and made it to the edge of the crib draped in pink. He held his breath and peered in.

Tracey laid sprawled out, a pink rabbit already losing its fuzz haphazardly askew at her feet, tangled with the blankets. Her little limbs almost touched the sides of the crib. They'd be able to transition her to a bed soon. He rubbed his forehead. They'd have to move the armoire and probably ditch the chair to fit even a child size bed in the room next to the crib. Or he could loan it to Trevor. Actually, he'd give it to Trevor. The man needed more furniture, and it'd be nice to have some place to sit over there that he knew didn't come from the dump.

Michael was startled out of his reverie when Tracey stretched a little, taking a deep breath and holding it for just long enough to make him nervous. She let it out and relaxed again, chewing on air. Michael almost laughed, but instead he grabbed the stuffed rabbit from her feet and laid it back down near her head, before pulling the blanket over them both. He brushed her bangs to either side, and her eyes opened just the tiniest bit but her breathing remained the same.

"Goodnight, baby doll," he said, and she smiled. Really it was just a slight deepening of the dimples in her cheeks but he saw it, and smiled too.


	2. A Summer Afternoon

Summer in North Yankton: the only season with temperatures routinely higher than the mid-fifties and foliage on the trees other than evergreens. The trailer park bustled with activity; children ran through the dusty, cracked pavement streets, screaming and laughing. Four year old Tracey echoed their sentiments by sprinting from one end of the trailer home she shared with her parents and little brother to the other, singing nonsensically at the top of her lungs. She circled back through the kitchen, knocking over one of the dining chairs, smacking the cabinets and giggling. She dragged her worn out pink rabbit alongside her in a tutu matching the frilly pink one encircling her waist. She ran back through the living room, jumping on the couch, and bounding back to the floor. She stomped down the hallway, pushing open the door to the bathroom, spinning in a pirouette and pushing open the door to the nursery next.

"Tracey, stop that!" her mother berated from inside the nursery, standing over the dresser turned changing table, powdering Tracey's toddler brother. Tracey just giggled, prancing away into her parent's bedroom. She slapped open the door, but it rebounded, and oddly enough, it seemed to say "Ow!"

She was so startled by it that she could only stare as it quickly swung back towards her, having prematurely changed direction. It would have hit her, had a hand not reached out and grabbed the edge, stopping it short. Michael peered around the door at her, arching an eyebrow.

"Trace, what are you doing?" he asked calmly. She hid her bunny behind her back.

"The door said ow!" she exclaimed, pointing at the offending door as Michael came out from behind it and knelt in front of her.

"That was me, sweetheart," he said. She clapped her hand over her mouth. "I was behind the door and it hit me," he said very slowly.

"Did it hurt?" she asked very quietly.

"A little bit," he said. "What do you say?" he asked and she squirmed under his gaze. He tilted his head to get a better look at the four year old. "Tracey, what do you say?" he asked again.

"I'm sorry!" she half said, half shouted and Michael rocked back on his heels with a surprised smirk.

"Lucky I've got a pretty hard head," he continued, knocking on his own forehead, "as your mother likes to remind me," he finished in a conspiratorial whisper. "Apology accepted." Tracey darted forward , grabbing his face with her hands, and planted a kiss on his forehead before dashing off.

"All better!" she yelled as she resumed her thunderous laps through the home. Michael stood, shaking his head. He shrugged into a Hawaiian shirt and exited the bedroom just as Amanda left the nursery, holding a sideways Jimmy.

"Would you take him for a minute?" Amanda asked, turning her hip towards Michael. He grabbed the squirming toddler securely at the waist and lifted him off his mother, immediately spinning around. Jimmy went stiff as a board, putting his chubby arms out in front of him and squalling happily as Michael swung him about like a plane. Amanda bolted for the bathroom and immediately shut the door. Michael couldn't help but chuckle as he passed the bathroom and entered the living area. Tracey bounced from the couch to the armchair and back.

"Hey, hey," Michael chided, "no shoes on the furniture," he said and Tracey wailed before catapulting herself off the furniture and running down the hall again. Michael blinked after her for a moment, before realizing jimmy was wriggling in his arms. Michael went to put him down, but the toddler immediately started bawling. With a horrified face, Michael picked him back up and Jimmy immediately quieted. "Okay then," Michael muttered. Tracey flitted around his legs, her bunny almost tripping him as he tried to make it to the kitchen.

"I wanna go outside!" she proclaimed, weaving around the table. Michael tried to shift Jimmy to his left arm, but he wasn't cooperating. So instead he hiked the tyke up over his shoulder, and opened the fridge with his left hand. Jimmy giggled and kicked the air as Michael retrieved a can of beer. He set it down briefly on the counter to pop it open.

"As soon as your mom's out of the potty we can go outside," Michael reported. He brought the can up and took a gulp. As Tracey began screaming, he concluded she wasn't satisfied with his answer. "Trace," he scolded, turning to look at her. She shrunk and immediately sat down at the tone of his voice. "Good girl," he said with a nod and a smile, before feeling a tugging at the beer in his hand. "Hey, hands off," he cried, returning his attention to Jimmy, who had managed to writhe his way back down onto Michael's arm, and attempted to grab Michael's beer. Michael held it just out of his son's reach. "This is not for you. This is mine."

"Mine!" Jimmy repeated and Michael scolded himself internally.

"No, no, this is daddy's," he clarified, trying to point to himself, but finding it difficult to point to his own chest and keep the beer out of Jimmy's grabbing hands. Just then Amanda appeared from the bathroom, still putting up her hair in a lop-sided pony tail.

"Really?" she asked, looking at his beer as he handed her Jimmy as soon as she was in arm's reach.

"It's Saturday," he reasoned.

"It's Tuesday," she responded.

"Wow, I was off," he remarked. "It's summer?"

"There you go," she agreed, as he gave her a sip. She didn't get much more as Tracey began circling them, chanting "Outside! Outside! Outside!"

"Oh sweet Je-" Michael started but caught Amanda's glare. "Je… Gerbils…?" he stuttered and she snorted an inelegant chortle and headed for the door. Tracey turned back to look at him, tilting her head as her mother unlocked the door.

"What's a jer-bulls?" she asked, hugging her bunny.

"It's a rodent - like a hamster," he said, but Tracey continued to stare, uncomprehending. "Like a mouse?" he tried and a look of comprehension donned upon Tracey's face shortly before being replaced by that of complete and utter repulsion.

"Gross!" she howled, but before Michael could respond, Amanda opened the door, and Tracey was outside in the blink of an eye.

"Fu-fiddlesticks!" he exclaimed, as he hurried passed Amanda and Jimmy to keep an eye on the speedy four year old. He caught up to her as she made it across the crumbling asphalt road. Luckily traffic was tame this time of day, as everyone soaked up the sun in varying ways. Michael grabbed Tracey by the hand just before she dove into the neighbor's inflatable pool. "Tracey!" he scolded, pulling her back. "You know you're not supposed to run out like that."

"Aw, here I thought you were going to both end up in the pool," a familiar voice called from the small porch in front of him. Michael looked up to see his neighbor Ted in just his jeans and a towel around his neck, observing him. Michael laughed, spinning as Tracey attempted to run in circles around him.

"I dunno about her, but at this rate, I just might," he replied. He heard the door to his own trailer home close, and managed to stop spinning long enough to see Amanda balancing Jimmy on one arm and a folding chair on the other. "Uh oh," he breathed, and made his way back across the street, much to Tracey's dismay. Ted disappeared back inside. Michael released Tracey once they reached their small patch of lawn, or rather, dirt, in front of their home and he took the chair from Amanda. He set it up in the drive way while Tracey immediately began climbing up her small, pink picnic table set.

Amanda pulled a large, rubber ball out of a small storage trunk hidden under the stairs and set it down with Jimmy, who exclaimed "Ball!" and fell upon it in an over enthusiastic embrace. It rolled away and he collapsed face forward on the ground. Amanda reached forward but he picked himself up and raced the couple steps to the ball, before repeating his previous mistake. Amanda put a hand to her forehead and just sat down on the lawn chair.

"Daddy, daddy!" Tracey called.

"I think you're being summoned," Amanda remarked, as Michael took a long series of gulps out of his beer. He shook the can and handed it to Amanda before crossing to where Tracey sat at the miniature picnic table. Amanda brought the can to her lips but stopped, moving it farther away to analyze it. She swirled it to discover that there was in fact some beer left in there for her, despite how light the can was. She pursed her lips and glared at the back of Michael's head as she finished off the can.

Michael contorted himself as best he could and sat on the tiny bench. The bunny sat, or rather slumped really, next to Tracey, who was gesticulating very precise movements in the air with her little hands. Pinky out, she dipped her right hand near the surface of the table and then pushed empty air delicately in Michael's direction.

"That one's yours, " she explained, "Miss Bunny made it 'specially for you so you better drink it all," Tracey warned with a raising of her eyebrows that Michael thought was a little too reminiscent of her mother as he took the invisible cup.

"Why thank you Miss Bunny," he said and pretended to drink.

"Miss Bunny wants to go in the pool," Tracey stated.

"Trace, you know Miss Bunny can't go in the pool," Michael responded, dropping his hands back to the table top.

"But she wants to!"

"She can't swim," he replied by rote.

"I'll teach her," Tracey protested. He guessed he should have expected that one, since she'd just recently learned how to swim at the community pool herself.

"Bunnies don't like the water, Trace," he tried, but Tracey just pouted.

"Miss Bunny does; she told me so."

"She can't go in the pool," Michael repeated and the firmness in his voice made Tracey settle back on her bench. Amanda got up and corralled Jimmy back towards their trailer from where he'd wandered off with the ball. Having situated him in the drive way, Amanda made her way back inside for a moment.

"Get me another beer?" Michael asked. Amanda didn't respond. Tracey doted on her rabbit some more, petting her fur and whispering under a floppy ear, blatantly ignoring the over-sized occupant of the table across from her. Amanda reappeared with a beer an an unassuming glass of orange juice. Michael smiled as he took the beer and clinked it against her glass with a wink. She waved him off, smirking coyly as she sat back down. Tracey played with the ruffles on her rabbit's tutu before freezing mid-motion. The sudden movement was not lost on her father.

"Trace? You okay, baby doll?" he asked, moving to get up from the bench, but due to the contorted position of his legs, it took some maneuvering. Meanwhile, Tracey simply hopped up, bringing her stuffed rabbit with her. She circled around and covered one of this eyes with a hand and wrapped something around his face, before bolting off, giggling triumphantly. Despite her little hands no longer grabbing at his face, there was still something over his eyes. He reached up to grab the offender. The tutu. He swiped the tutu off his head and spun around. Amanda was laughing but immediately stopped.

"Oh no, Tracey! No…" she cried, before collapsing back into the chair with a sigh as a defiant splash marked Tracey's victory. The world seemed to move in slow motion as Michael sprinted across the street in an attempt to catch the rabbit before Tracey dunked it in the kiddie pool, but to no avail. Michael eased his pace in failure, but suddenly stumbled on something. He tried to catch himself, but with one hand holding the beer and trying distinctly not to steam roll his daughter while at the same time not face planting into the asphalt… he couldn't succeed. And he landed on his ass, still holding his beer, next to his daughter in the inflatable pool. She tittered exuberantly and Jimmy chased after that damn ball as it rolled away from the scene of the crime.

Tracey put the sopping wet bunny on her father's lap, making him flinch in surprise. "See, I told you she could swim," she said poignantly. "You might wanna take some pointers from her, daddy," Tracey added. "She thinks you could use her help," she whispered in his ear. She took her the rabbit back and kept playing in the water, her own clothes soaked as well. Michael sat stock still as his daughter splashed him more and more.

"Jer-bulls," he muttered and drank his beer.


	3. Trick-Or-Treat

"But I want to wear the crown!" Tracey cried, as Michael slipped on shoulder holsters over what used to be a white tank top and was now mussed beyond repair. His khaki pants were similarly sullied, but it didn't seem to bother him as he turned to his five year old.

"I thought you wanted to be a fairy?" he asked, tugging at the badge hanging on a chain around his neck.

"A fairy princess," Tracey corrected vehemently.

"Ohh," Michael conceded, "Give me just a second," he said and quickly ducked back into the kids' room. "Ow, ow," Michael purred as he passed Amanda on his way to the closet. She wore a short, white wrap dress and had fake feathered wings strapped on her back. Michael almost asked if the glittery silver heels were from work, but decided not to as he grabbed an also glittery, but pink, crown from the toy chest in the closet. She finished zipping up Jimmy's black and grey costume and straightened out the hooded mask with pointed ears over his face. Michael grabbed the silver tinsel circle that rested on the edge of the bed.

"Alright, go on," Amanda said and the miniature Batman lept down from the bed and dashed out the door giggling. Amanda turned to face Michael and ducked as he set the circlet atop her head.

"I think you forgot something," he whispered. He leaned over and gave her a kiss. She brought up her hands, nails painted red, and put them on his chest. As she went to embrace him, her hands came to rest upon the pistols slung under his arms. She pulled back and went to put her hand on the grip but Michael stopped her from pulling the weapon very far out.

"Michael, are those real?" she asked incredulously.

"What?" he asked, shrugging. "It adds a touch of authenticity," he said, pinching his fingers together and kissing them too. Amanda lifted the badge from where it hung on its chain at his chest, and tilted her head, before looking back up at him.

"This isn't…"

"Don't. Ask," he cut her off, grasping her hand in his and taking it away from the badge. "Questions you don't want to know the answers to." He kissed her cheek and followed Jimmy to the living area. Amanda shook her head as she followed, looking her husband up and down.

"Michael, you're supposed to dress up, for Halloween. You just look like you got off a job," Amanda sighed. "And stole some poor cop's-"

"Sshh," Michael sputtered. "I'm John McClane!"

"Sure," Amanda replied, "just don't let the kids get your 'props'."

"Of course not!" Michael exclaimed picking up Jimmy, who immediately began grabbing at his father. Michael held him at arms length before turning back to Amanda. "Maybe you should take him?"

"Uh huh," Amanda agreed and took Jimmy.

Tracey bounced by the door, brown paper bag in hand and her crown now set atop her head. "Let's go! Let's go!" she said and Michael opened the door. She skipped through the door and Michael waved Amanda and Jimmy through. She had to angle slightly, so her wings didn't hit the sides of the doorway, while Jimmy grabbed at her tinsel halo.

"Go across the street," Michael called after them as he too exited the trailer home, relishing the unseasonably warm weather. Usually by now snow covered the ground and the children had to wear coats over their costumes, but this year the leaves still clung onto the trees and though a chill permeated the air, Michael was comfortable in his tank top. Tracey flitted to and fro as Amanda put Jimmy on the ground. He bolted forward, following Tracey as she went up the stairs, her fairy wings flopping behind her. Jimmy took the stairs one at a time and stumbled and crawled after his sister, his cape flopping flimsily after him. Michael and Amanda stayed at the foot of the steps as Tracey pounded on their neighbor's door. The door opened to reveal a tall man in a black and red high collared cape.

"Who's this?" the burly man asked, bending low. "A-a fairy and, oh man, no way, Batman?!"

"I'm a fairy princess," Tracey corrected, tapping her crown indignantly. The tall man put a hand to his chest apologetically.

"Oh excuse me, your highness," he said. He bent low and whipped out a basket of treats. "What are you doing out of your castle?" he asked. Tracey turned back to look at her parents in uncertainty. Jimmy flapped his cape up and down.

"Go on," Amanda encouraged and Tracey tuned back to the neighbor.

"Trick or treat!" Tracey said and held out her bag. Jimmy continued playing with his cape until Tracey side kicked him. He held out his bag as well and the vampire dumped a handful of wrapped candy bars into the bags. "Thank you, Mr Ted!" Tracey exclaimed and the neighbor hid behind his red and black cape.

"Mr Ted?! I am count Dracula!" he proclaimed, and with a melodramatic laugh he shut the door. Tracey and Jimmy returned to their parents.

"He has way too much fun with this crap," Michael whispered out of the corner of his mouth as the kids bolted to the next trailer home.

"Michael!" Amanda berated, adjusting her halo and passing him to follow the children. He had to admit, as he walked behind her, he loved watching her walk in heels. So distracted was he, by the easy sway of her hips, accentuated by the waggling feathered wings, that he almost didn't see the rustling in the bushes. But he did.

"Woah, woah!" Michael exclaimed, drawing one of his pistols and aiming at the bush as a figure lept out. Amanda screeched and gathered up both of the children, who in turn squeaked and screamed in surprise. A figure clad completely in red with a devilish face and a piercing cackle crouched amidst the family, but Michael was the first to relax, lowering his pistol.

"Jesus fucking Christ, T," Michael sighed as he holstered his gun. Amanda stayed hunched low to the ground, clutching her children with an iron grip.

"Trevor!?" she finally managed to breath through her clenched teeth. The devil spun around to face the wife and kids.

"Amanda! Angel, baby!" he exclaimed, his arms open wide. "Fancy meeting you here!" he remarked and Amanda stood up, pulling down her dress from where it had rode up.

"Uncle T?" Tracey gasped, gaping, and Trevor stooped to all fours, hopping about and making fiendish noises. Jimmy wailed and ran back inside the house. Tracey wasn't far behind him.

"Hey-ey-ey, the fuck you do that for man?" Michael asked, approaching his friend, who he realized was actually wearing body paint from head to toe, red briefs, and work boots.

"Life lessons, bro. It's all hallows eve. Time to be wary, be watchful. It's never to early to start bein' suspicious of the bush next door," Trevor replied with a waggle of his eyebrows. Amanda gagged.

"Great, our kids are going to be scared of shrubbery," she remarked in exasperation.

"Well, lookie here, Miss high and mighty. I wouldn't be talking if I was you, naughty little ang-"

"Fuck off," Amanda bit back and Trevor splayed his arms open wide toward her.

"You want me to? Huh?" he taunted, motioning crudely before Michael spun him around. Trevor stumbled a few steps forward, and turned back around to see only one of the pair of wings poking out from hiding behind Michael.

"That's enough, T" Michael scolded. "Now I'm going to go get my kids and we're going to continue trick or treating, and you are going to keep your mouth shut and your hands where I can see them."

"Yes, sir, Mister Copper sir," Trevor respond and Michael threw his hands down, exasperated.

"I am not a cop; I'm John McClane!"

"Uh huh, sure, sugar tits. The fuck is John McClane? You're wearing the same damn shit you always do."

"Fuck you," Michael said, flipping him off as he retreated to his own doorway. Trevor turned to Amanda who glared, her arms crossed over her chest. Trevor leaned toward her a bit, most obviously looking her up and down.

"It's, uh, a bit chilly out, innit?" he asked and she harrumphed before her children ran toward her.

"It is you, uncle T!" Tracey exclaimed as she and Jimmy threw themselves at the red painted man.

"Of course it is! How many other genuine devils do you know?" he asked, returning their hugs ten fold.

"Yea, you're a real one-of-a-kind," Michael goaded as he approached. "Come on, next house," he instructed and ushered the kids forward. Amanda hurried before him, taking quick, shuffling steps in her heels as she caught up to the kids. Michael pushed his way past Trevor, who chortled and followed. Michael sighed, pushing his hair back looking from the angel in front of him to the devil behind him. "Jesus fucking Christ," he whispered in an irritated moment of realization.

"Michael!" Amanda scolded in an urgent, if hushed, voice, glancing back at him over her shoulder as the children ran up the stairs to another house. Michael shrugged, shaking his head in apology. He took out a cigarette and clamped it between his lips. He reached for his lighter, but Trevor's was there first, the flame almost licking Michael's nose. Michael let out a small, surprised yelp, before steadying the cigarette with his hand and lighting it from his friend's outstretched light. He pulled back and exhaled; Trevor flipped the lighter closed and stashed it back in his red briefs. Michael shut his eyes tight and took a deep, steadying breath, before shaking his head again.

"I almost fu- effing shot you back there by the way"

"I know, wasn't it great?"


End file.
